


Starting Over

by kronette



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 16:37:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12610904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: I used to post a story in whatever fandom I happened to be in on John Lennon’s birthday. This one felt a little weird considering our boys’ proclivities, but then Will went off on his own and well…this happened. Happy birthday, John.





	Starting Over

They had finished dinner and Hannibal had sent Will to stir up the fireplace. It was a cool fall evening and the slight chill in the air matched the pensiveness he’d sensed from Will all day.

Will said nothing of it; made no indication that he was even aware of his own withdrawn status. It had Hannibal slightly worried, though if something were truly wrong, Will would have let him know immediately and vociferously. 

A rambunctious clash of horns and drums greeted him as Hannibal walked into the den, not surprised to find Will standing in front of the record player perusing a colorful album sleeve. Frowning minutely, Will picked up the needle and flipped the record over, placing the needle carefully on the vinyl. A faster version of the same song bled immediately into a slow, almost melancholy piano. 

Seemingly satisfied with his change, Will settled on the couch with his head tilted against the back, hands folded over his stomach and legs crossed at his ankles. His eyes were closed and a faint smile tilted up the corners of his mouth; he was clearly enjoying the music. 

Hannibal slipped over to the record player and picked up the Beatles album, eyes searching the bookcase to guess Will’s next selection. He had been selectively choosing certain songs in the Beatles and John Lennon’s library, but Hannibal couldn’t detect a pattern of how Will was making his selections. Years, topics, themes were all varied and seemed utterly random. 

Not wanting to disturb Will’s enjoyment of the piece, Hannibal sat next to him on the couch, maintaining his silence. 

When the final chorus of the last note faded to nothing, Will roused himself and pulled another album off the shelf, his selection this time only a stark piano with faint strings and drums behind it. Will remained standing at the player for the duration, eyes fixed on a point above the fireplace but Hannibal knew he wasn’t seeing it. He was lost inside his head, in remembrance or imagination; it was impossible to tell. 

Since fleeing north into Canada and losing themselves in the bustle of Toronto, Will had made no overtures, sexual or otherwise, towards Hannibal. They shared an apartment and meals, but two bedrooms meant two beds and Hannibal had spent the better part of three months sleeping alone. He was certainly no stranger to it, but after their slaying of the Dragon and resurrection in the Atlantic Ocean, he’d expected…

And therein was Hannibal’s problem. Hannibal had expected _more_ from Will, after having said that all he ever wanted was for Will to embrace the darkness of his nature. He had borne witness to Will’s transformation, revered it, wept at the beauty of it, and yet, three months out, it was no longer enough. 

Hannibal was a master over his own body and mind, but a slave to Will Graham, and he was becoming acclimated to the faint ache of _never enough_. 

He startled when a hand curled around his, staring up at Will in ill-concealed shock. The distant look was gone from Will’s eyes; warm and present and sparking with a hint of desire. Hannibal leaned back as Will placed his knee next to Hannibal’s on the couch, balancing himself carefully before bringing his other knee to the cushion, settling his ass on Hannibal’s knees. 

“This is the song I was afraid to play,” Will murmured before pressing his lips gently against Hannibal’s, the softest tremor belying Will’s calm exterior. 

Hannibal couldn’t keep his hand from cradling the back of Will’s head, letting the curls slip between his fingers. “Why?” he breathed, flicking his gaze between the lips hovering just above his and Will’s eyes, blue-green irises slowly disappearing as Will’s arousal heightened. 

Will leaned in, brushing their lips together. “Because we should have started over weeks ago, but I couldn’t let go of the last vestiges of my old self.” 

Hannibal felt his careful control slipping as Will’s body heat surrounded him. He hesitantly placed a hand on Will’s thigh, exhaling slowly as he was graced with Will’s eyes closing and his lips parting on a soft breath. 

“Have you—” Hannibal cleared the rough tremor from his voice and started again. “Have you worked through them now?”

Will shook his head with infinite slowness, smiling faintly and dragging the tip of his nose against Hannibal’s. “I’ve decided it’s not important that I fully let go of my past. My past shaped me and made me who I am now. If I was not who I was, you would not want me as I am now.” 

Hannibal tightened his fingers in Will’s hair, holding him in place as he claimed Will’s mouth in a forceful, hungry kiss. “I wanted you then,” Hannibal admitted, slicking his tongue against Will’s. “My passion for you has only grown over the years.” 

Will pulled back, his hand firm on Hannibal’s shoulder. “And if I never killed again?” 

It was a threat and a plea, though Hannibal could not determine which would win out if Will was pushed to choose. “I would be disappointed, but I have shown you where your true potential lies and I leave it up to you whether you pursue it or not.” He stroked Will’s hair again. “But I could not deny you, whatever path you choose.” 

There was nothing elegant about the way Will’s hands tore at their buttons and zippers, but the first touch of Will’s hand to Hannibal’s cock sent a shockwave of pleasure through Hannibal. 

Will’s kisses were equally as sloppy, hurried and frantic and gasping as Hannibal’s hand encircled Will’s thickening length and stroked him firmly.

Their desire was fueled as much by their mental awareness of the other as physical arousal, though Hannibal enjoyed Will’s uneven breaths against his face and the relentless movement of Will’s hand on his erection. 

Will succumbed first, forehead pressed to Hannibal’s as broken sounds caught in his throat, thick streams coating Hannibal’s hand and groin. 

Staring up into Will’s eyes, the blue-green almost gone as Will lost himself to pleasure, Hannibal found his own release, groaning softly as he squeezed Will’s hand around his erection, milking himself to the point of discomfort. 

The album played on as Will climbed gracelessly off the couch, Hannibal just as unsteadily getting to his feet. Will grinning sheepishly and Hannibal trying to maintain his dignity while holding his pants up in his fist, they waddled into the bathroom and cleaned themselves up. 

It was a wasted venture as it became only a pause in their actions, Hannibal’s bed seeing the renewal of their desire twice more before the sun came up, both men sleeping well through the morning. 

The End


End file.
